


Drawn by Heart

by almaasi



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Babysitting, Cultural Differences, Drawing, Fluff, Illustrated, M/M, Matchmaker Molly O’Brien, One Shot, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: While babysitting little Molly O’Brien, Garak and Julian try their hands at using crayons and coloured pencils to draw each other. Garak’s creative talents know no bounds. Julian’s... not so much.⋆“Forgive me, but,” Garak tried, “what is this intended to be? This red mark, here.”“Oh,” Julian said, “I added that so it was obvious I meant to show you in a good light, and all that. Affectionately.”“I see.” Garak pondered the mark again. It looked like two conjoined circles shaped towards a V at the bottom. “H... How, precisely, does it show that? Is it a pictorial symbol of some kind?”Molly let out a small huff. “It’s aheart, Uncle Garak. It means Uncle Julian loves you.”
Relationships: Elim Garak & Molly O'Brien, Julian Bashir & Molly O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 57
Kudos: 233





	Drawn by Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Eight days ago (in the author’s notes of my NSFW Garashir fic ‘[Chickenfingers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159047)’) I said - and I quote – “Unless there’s a surprise fic that pops out of nowhere, I think this might be the last fic I’m posting in 2020.” So... SURPRISE. _This_ is the last fic I’m posting in 2020. It’s 100% less cursed and _infinitely_ more wholesome than the last one.
> 
> Beta’d by [Still_Not_King](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_Not_King), and [ConceptaDecency](https://conceptadecency.tumblr.com/), with writerly support from [anupalya](https://anupalya.tumblr.com/). Art betaing (i.e. “I like the previous shading on his nose; yes the legs are right”) by [sweetdreamspootypie](https://sweetdreamspootypie.tumblr.com/).

“Garak! Oh, you’re a _life-saver_.”

Garak stood in the doorway to the O’Briens’ quarters. His eye-ridges rose, as did Julian’s eyebrows.

Too harried to even notice what she’d said, Keiko grabbed her overstuffed travel pack and threw her arms around Garak’s neck, giving him a brief hug. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” She dropped away from him, her expression distracted while her eyes shone with gratitude. “She’s had her lunch, and she’s got some colouring she wants to do, so she’s all set. My shuttle will be in range the whole time, so comm me if you need me. Alright?”

Garak held his friend’s elbows, nodding. “I’ll take good care of her, dear Keiko.”

“I am _so_ sorry it’s short notice. Captain Sisko called it a ‘botanical emergency’ and I didn’t question the urgency of the summons—”

“No matter! No matter.” Warmth filled Garak’s chest, and he smiled, which made Julian smile too. Garak added: “Your call to Bajor’s fifth moon offered an easy excuse to have myself and Dr. Bashir steal away from the Replimat as though we had something terribly dramatic afoot.”

Julian plopped the last bite of his sausage roll into his mouth, then sucked a fleck of pastry off his thumb. “Hoph you bon’t minb if I hang arounb.” He tucked his mouthful into his cheek and finished clearly, “I scheduled myself an entire hour for lunch with Garak, and I intend to use it doing something _other_ than staring at a computer screen.”

Keiko beamed. “Just don’t teach Molly to talk with her mouth full, and you’re welcome to stay.”

Julian’s smile stretched wide, as his eyes darted to Garak, apparently making sure he was smiling too. Garak was.

“Honey?” Keiko put her pack down again and went to find five-year-old Molly, who sat in the middle of the living room surrounded by art supplies. “I’m leaving now.” Molly reached up for a hug, and Keiko knelt to put a kiss on her forehead too. “You be good, okay? Garak’s going to be looking after you until I come back.”

“Are we gunna do planting again?” Molly asked, eyes moving from her mother to Garak.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” Garak said gently, entering the room properly with the doctor in tow. “But I am very interested in your drawing. What is it you’re making?”

Keiko didn’t leave a moment for Molly to answer as she hurried back to the door and snatched up her pack. “Bye!” She patted Julian on the back as she passed. “Bye, Molly!”

“Love you, Mommy!”

“Love you too, Molly!”

“Safe trip!” Julian called after her as the doors closed.

Garak turned from the doors back to the child, then bent at the waist to peer at the white paper. “IIIII recognise that...”

“It’s my home,” Molly said, as Garak knelt on the carpet and took the drawing onto his lap too see better. Molly pointed out the features of her artwork. “That’s the door, and that’s the couch, and tha— that’s the weplicator.”

“Ah! A _remarkable_ likeness!”

Julian had just put his empty plate back into the replicator beside the dining table, and now returned with tea: one mug for him, and one for Garak.

Garak took the proffered tea and murmured, “Thank you.”

Julian ambled down to the carpet like a collapsing ladder, then crossed his legs to face Molly and Garak: knees _wide_ apart, ankles touching, uniform jumpsuit stretched into wrinkles across his crotch. The position seemed rather obscene to Garak, as it would to any Cardassian, but he understood it wasn’t seen as suggestive to most Humans. He couldn’t imagine himself being caught sitting like that except in the presence of a lover.

“Good thing there’s tea,” Julian said, nose in his mug. He sipped once, then added, “It’s not proper _Garak_ quality-time until there’s tea.”

Garak hum-hummed a laugh. “Says the man who wolfs down his meal every second week and forgets to order a drink.”

“That’s what I mean. It’s better when I get time to savour it. Why do you think I booked a whole hour free for today? You can’t rush ‘amiable debate’. But I suppose we’ll have to talk about something else now, won’t we, given our company. Molly’s smart but I doubt she’s all that interested in The Never-Ending Bore of Cardassian Literature. And if she were, you might want to have lunch with _her_ , instead.”

Molly looked up from her groupings of crayons, and asked, “Were you having a special gwown-up dinnertime together?”

Garak opened his mouth to reply, then swivelled his gaze to Julian, whose eyes had widened. Now his ears were going red. Julian hid halfway behind his mug, then lowered it, and showed he was grinning awkwardly.

“Heh. Ummmm.” Julian glanced at Garak, embarrassed but still smiling. “W-w-we were—”

“Dr. Bashir and I have enjoyed many a meal together, young Molly,” Garak informed their charge. “ _Dinner_ is something we have yet to explore.”

Molly had only wisdom to offer. “You should have evening dinner and then Uncle Julian won’t have to work when it’s time to eat.”

Julian raised his eyebrows, eyes sparkling. “She has a point, you know.”

Although amused, Garak tutted. “And what will people think of us then, Doctor? I know Federation-born Humans and ex-Obsidian-Order Cardassians differ wildly in terms of symbolic gestures and cultural norms, but I think we can at least agree that in the eyes of your fellow Humans, something... is _implied_ by two... ah, grown-ups... having a special _dinner_ time together. And we all know there are no other Cardassians on this station to take issue with our current schedule.”

Julian was about to sip his tea, but stopped before the mug met his lips. “What are you saying? That Cardassians see _lunch_ as the more romantic meal?”

“Oh, it varies from place to place,” Garak said, waving a hand dismissively. “I hardly think the rules can apply to an off-world Bajoran space station.”

Julian’s brows pinched together. “Yes, alright, but... But you _did_ imply—”

“Now, young Molly, what are you drawing currently?” Garak asked, pointedly paying close attention. His head cocked to see the page at a better angle. “My-my... All these colours at your fingertips, and you’ve picked out the grey! A bold choice. A fine choice.” He looked at the back of his own grey hand. “Hmm, a handsome choice...”

Julian chuckled. “You know, Garak, that drawing does look a bit like you...”

Molly shushed them. “I’m not finished yet.”

“Oop.” Julian set a finger over his smiling lips. “She’s not finished yet.”

“Quite understandable,” Garak said, before sipping his red leaf tea. “One must never disturb an artist at work.”

Julian watched Molly curl over the paper, squiggling wax crayon tips on the paper and leaving striped marks in it that matched the carpet texture below. Garak watched the drawing in progress, then watched Julian. He knew the man well; well enough to recognise when a spark fired in his mind.

“Molly?” Julian asked.

Molly didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“Do you mind if I borrow some paper?”

“Am I gunna get it back?” Molly asked, in a way so like her father that Julian threw his head back laughing.

Garak was dazzled by this burst of joy, enraptured by the sight of Julian off-duty, off-guard, and brimming with emotional warmth Garak had only been privy to during his own most vulnerable moments.

“You can have it back,” Julian promised Molly, “but it’ll have a drawing of Garak on it.”

Garak huffed into his tea and hastily lowered it. “Doctor...”

“You have an interesting face; what can I say?” Julian uttered, accepting the paper Molly offered him. “Now, let’s see...” He found another grey crayon, this one a lighter shade than the one Molly had chosen. “Drawing in such a tactile way is so much more fun than drawing on a screen, isn’t it, Molly?”

“I like the crayon smell,” Molly said.

“Exactly!” Julian threw his hands out towards Molly emphatically. “You can’t sniff a computer!”

“I’m certain you could,” Garak said, “but I dare say you might be branded as some kind of fetishist.”

“Garak,” Julian warned.

“What’s a feshishish?” Molly asked.

Julian put on a strained smile. “A funny word for a fish.”

Garak restrained his laugh like any decent man ought to. “You’re going to get her into a lot of trouble, Doctor.”

“You started it.”

“Hm!” Not one hint of regret.

Julian did not deign to keep the conversation going, as by now he’d folded his paper into quarters, and rested it on his thigh to draw. Garak, opposite, could not be sure how Julian began, but saw him make several swift, sketchy movements, then press harder with his grey crayon and move more slowly.

Molly stopped biting her lip and glanced up, pulling fresh paper towards her. Then she paused, and put that page on Garak’s lap. “You should draw Uncle Julian.”

Garak looked at the child in amusement. “Should I, indeed?”

“If you do, we can compare.” Molly lay on her front and moved close to her own page to colour it. “And I’ll decide who’s a better artist.”

Garak smiled. “I think I’d best leave this competition to you two. I’m no master of the wax crayon; I’d only bring shame upon myself.”

“Oh,” Julian looked up. “But there’s coloured pencils?” He turned the case of art supplies around and opened it up, revealing a rainbow of extra crayons and untouched pencils: still sharp, still all the same length.

Garak put down his mug and reached for the case, feeling some inexplicable joy at the sight of all the colours arranged so perfectly. “I could use one of these collections for my tailoring shop.”

“I’ll add it to the birthday list.” Julian smirked. “When is your birthday, again?” he asked, with badly feigned nonchalance.

“A feeble attempt, Doctor.”

“I’ll find out eventually.”

Garak pulled out a warm-toned brown pencil from its elastic clasp, then looked up, reconsidered his companion’s complexion, and pulled out another, darker brown. Then a green for his eyes, a grey for his skin undertone, a pale orange for highlights, and black for shadows and the outline.

Julian was still scribbling with his grey crayon. He uttered, “Whoops,” and hurriedly scrambled to find a white crayon. Garak doubted it would have any effect, but he’d let Julian find that out for himself.

Garak folded his paper, as Julian had, intending to make the fragile canvas more stable. Instead of balancing it on his leg, he brought the supply case onto his lap and used its closed wooden lid as a supportive surface.

He made quick work of his outline, having memorised dear Julian’s face during the many years he’d spent sitting opposite him. He exaggerated his cheekbones a little, and made his eyelashes more pronounced, and gave him a playful expression that never failed to make Garak smile when he saw it in reality.

His legs... Longer legs than the majority of Humans, definitely. Garak knew his inseam and could calculate by sight, so his drawing’s proportions came out perfectly on the first try. Julian would inevitably be shy to see his likeness showing off such a slim frame, posed in an impish way. Garak drew him viewed from the side, as if he sat on an invisible surface, one hand gripping the ledge, with one foot stretched out and pointed. He looked as if he were about to jump up and scamper off the page.

Colours poured onto the paper without much thought. Garak moved automatically, reaching for one pencil, using it, then dropping it to take another. He opened the case to pull out blues and purples for Julian’s outfit, and he didn’t even see his hand moving; the colours appeared in the right places, growing darker as he built the saturation and shading up. Every brush of nib on paper was gentle enough not to leave a clear mark, only another wash of pigment.

Soon Garak lifted his head and lifted his page, nodding. “Aha.”

Julian glanced up. “Done?”

“If I spend any longer on it, I’ll overwork it. I find there’s a natural stopping point.”

Julian went, “Pff.”

“I’m done tooooo,” Molly said, sitting up cross-legged and throwing down her crayon. It rolled away, and Julian caught it and brought it back to the pile in the middle of them all. “Uncle Garak, can I see yours?”

Garak sucked in a breath, noticing the surprisingly familiar term before his name. “Ah... I—” His eyes darted to Julian’s, and Julian beamed back, distracted from his drawing and entirely absorbed by Garak’s uncertainty.

“Oh, yes, _please_ , Uncle Garak,” Julian said. “Show us what you made.”

Garak pushed up a smile, which felt easier the longer he looked at Julian. Eventually he relaxed, and nodded. “Of course.” He turned his drawing around to show it off. “Not my best work, but it’s been a while since I’ve drawn full-colour croquis. Usually I’ll make do with a sketch for the garment I intend to make, then choose fabric matches from swatches.”

He judged his own work from above, then looked at Molly. “Thoughts?”

“Hmmmmm. It’s a bit pointy,” Molly said.

“Pointy...” Garak examined the artwork. “Ah, yes. I see what you mean. Well, that is generally how I draw. Cardassian style veers towards the sleek and angular, and I must say, our doctor here is every part the picture of Cardassian elegance—”

Garak went silent when he saw Julian’s face. Julian was staring at the drawing in blank-faced disgruntlement.

Garak’s stomach churned. “Perhaps I need more practice...”

Julian finally glanced up. “What? Oh. Oh. No. It’s lovely, Garak. I’d say it’s beautiful but that’s a bit self-serving, isn’t it?” He tried to smile but instead lowered his chin, blinking towards the folded paper in his hands.

“Is something the matter?”

Julian took a breath and looked up again. “Oh. No! You’re really... _really_ good at drawing.”

Molly agreed. “And if you practise more you’ll be better!”

Garak’s smile spread, but couldn’t take over fully, as Julian’s discomfort was obvious. “Should I have put you in a different outfit? Forgive me, I’ve rather enjoyed the off-the-shoulder fashions the woman wear in your holosuite games, I thought I might add a little creative flair—”

“Garak.” Julian grinned, more confident now. “ _Shut_ up. It’s gorgeous.”

Molly got up on her knees and shuffled towards Julian’s side, wanting to whisper to him. He leaned closer to hear... “ _You’re not supposed to tell people to shut up._ ”

Garak and Julian shared the same grin, but Julian replaced his with a serious expression when Molly pulled back.

“You’re right, Molly, it was rude of me. Sorry, Garak.”

“You’re completely forgiven, dear friend.”

Julian nibbled his bottom lip, and sighed at his drawing. “Well, I may as well show you...” He hesitated. “Wait.” He snatched a pinky-red crayon from the pile and hastily bent over to add something. He sat up again, content. “There.” He met Garak’s eyes. “Just – remember I’m not trying to insult you, okay?”

“I... will bear that in mind...”

Julian handed the folded paper to Garak. Molly scrambled up next to him to see.

Garak found himself laughing this time, unrestrained. He chortled and hiccuped and barked a few times, then settled to a quiet chuckle. He smiled fondly at the abstract Cardassian-esque mess on the paper, and sighed in delight. “Molly,” he said, “I don’t think you’ll be getting this paper back after all. I feel the great urge to take it home to my quarters and keep it somewhere I can see it often.”

Julian tucked his chin back in perplexion. “You do know it’s rubbish, don’t you? I’ve never used a crayon in my life and I didn’t know they were so... imprecise. I swear I can draw! I do medical diagrams and they’re just fine!”

“I like it,” Molly said. “It captures his... his – ehss...”

“Essence?” Julian asked.

“Yah.”

Garak simply offered Julian a tender look. “Molly’s quite right. I recognise myself, Doctor. Everything from the smile, to the _delicate_ way I hold my glass of kanar, to the neckline and colours of the outfit. I doubt there’s a single person in existence who could’ve captured my essence in a more accurate way.”

“Or _one_ of your essences, anyway,” Julian mumbled.

“The truest one there is,” Garak conceded, as kindly as he dared. He looked at the drawing again. It was horrendous, and he loved it. His eyes moved from the smudgy mess where Julian had tried to cover sloppy lineart with layers of white crayon, up to part of the empty space over the drawing’s head, where Julian appeared to have tested the pinky-red crayon in a swirly block-colour blob.

But Julian had added that _last_...

“Forgive me, but,” Garak tried, inching closer to Julian to show him the art but not really moving, thereby encouraging Julian to lean in, “what is this intended to be? This red mark, here.”

“Oh, I added that so it was obvious I meant to show you in a good light, and all that. Affectionately.”

“I see.” Garak pondered the mark again. It looked like two conjoined circles shaped towards a V at the bottom. “H... How, precisely, does it show that? Is it a pictorial symbol of some kind?”

Molly let out a small huff. “It’s a _heart_ , Uncle Garak. It means Uncle Julian loves you.”

Julian’s breath caught and he began to stammer the starts of dissenting words but none of them became complete phrases.

Garak was more baffled than before. “It looks nothing like an aorta; Human or otherwise.”

“It— It’s the symbol for one,” Julian said. “With more, um, cultural significance denoting... what Molly said. That thing. A-A-And I meant it, well, sort of, not _quite_ as— Depends how you— Um.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I just didn’t want you to think I’d drawn some kind of offensive caricature, that’s all.”

Garak would’ve scoffed at that idea, were he not still caught up on the thought that Molly’s ever-blunt explanation for this ‘heart’ was indeed what Julian had meant to imply.

“This symbol,” Garak said, stroking his thumb over the stubborn-textured wax, until his thumb slid on paper again on the other side. “It’s used... to indicate friendship? Familial love?”

“Yes to both. All sorts of love. And—” Julian looked away, then hung his head.

“Doctor?”

Julian seemed to struggle for breath for a few seconds.

“...Julian?”

Julian blinked twice then looked up.

Garak peered back, waiting. His heart grew tight in his throat, pumping painfully hard.

“I suppose – under certain circumstances – it’s a symbol of r—” Julian was blushing beautifully by now, eyes ashine. “Romance. Romantic love.”

“And?” Garak would not let his dear Doctor escape this conversation. He wanted an answer. “How did you intend it?”

Julian shrugged his shoulders high. He stared back.

Garak waited a few more seconds, but Julian didn’t respond further.

For a moment, Garak felt his hope sinking. Lower. Lower. He cast his gaze to Molly, who looked back, confused.

Oh, this wouldn’t do.

They couldn’t come this far and be this honest and have everything halt here because _Julian_ was the one unable to open up.

Whatever he was holding back could be coaxed out...

Garak would obtain that information. Even if it meant opening up first. And it would have to be a far more intimate reveal than simply admitting the date of his birth.

Sacrifices had to be made.

Gritting his teeth, Garak put the drawing of himself down on the pile of crayons. Then he reached out and plucked the portrait of Julian from the doctor’s hands. Julian reached for it with caught breath, but retreated without making contact.

Determined, Garak opened up the art case, and kept it open, reaching in to find the right pencil. He located it, pulled it out, used it – still keeping his work hidden from his audience by the case lid. Then, when he was done, he set the case aside.

Pained by yearning and unwilling to be refused, Garak thrust out his drawing once again. Julian tried to take it, but Garak kept hold of it. Julian tugged it again, but Garak would not allow him to take it.

He waited until Julian opened both hands and asked for it.

Garak gave it to him.

Julian looked at it, and across his face spread a grin that set him alight, showed his top gums, and created deep crinkles beside his eyes. He giggled, and stared at the seven hearts drawn big and small around the illustrated Julian Bashir. He stared for a while, and tilted the paper to let Molly see as she hung over his shoulder.

Then, still smiling, Julian looked over at Garak at last.

“Garak,” Julian said, some caution in his voice. “How do you intend for me to take this?”

“Wholeheartedly,” Garak answered.

“No, I mean... Are the hearts to indicate friendship, or...?”

“Or?” Garak scoffed. “My dear Doctor. Not _or_. _And_.”

“And?” Julian echoed.

“Yes.”

“And... what?”

Garak gave him a pitying look.

Julian managed a tentative smile. “Oh. Friendship... _And_...”

“Hm,” Garak said, pleased.

Molly managed to gently finagle both drawings into her hands, and sat comparing them. “I think the hearts make Uncle Garak’s one better.”

“I think so, too,” Julian said, gazing doe-eyed at Garak.

Garak stared back, feeling his chest and belly flutter in a way that was both ceaseless and delightful.

Julian let his attention roam from Garak and towards Molly. “Who do you think won? Personally I don’t think it’s really a competition.”

“I like mine best,” Molly said.

Garak and Julian both chuckled, enthralled by this tiny creature who knew only total honesty.

“And why’s that?” Garak urged.

“It has you both,” Molly said, at last showing off her art. She handed it to Garak, so Julian crawled around the crayon pile to sit closer and look. Garak could feel his warmth, and leaned into it without thinking.

Molly was right: hers was the best. Garak was perhaps a grey scrawl in vaguely Humanoid form, with some stripes on his face indicating ridges, and he looked a bit fatter than he knew he really was, but there was no mistaking that Molly had drawn a Cardassian. Opposite him at a dining table sat Julian: a brown wisp of a shape with an explosion of black hair and lopsided features, but the figure wore a big smile, and a recognisable, if giant Starfleet badge upon his bosom.

There was a crayon heart floating over the table between them. Big, pinky-red, and unmistakably romantic.

“Are Garak and I having a special grown-up dinnertime?” Julian asked quietly.

“Yeah. You have to get a babysitter afterwards,” Molly said matter-of-factly.

“Do we?” Garak asked, much too sly. “Is that because we’ll be busy doing _other_ special grown-up things?”

Julian elbowed him in the side.

“It’s a simple question, Doctor,” Garak said.

Julian looked back at him. “Yes, but you’d be better off asking _me_ rather than _Molly_.”

“Hmm, so I might be. Thus I reiterate, Doctor: same question.”

Julian bit his lip in a grin. “Mmm. Let’s start with dinner, shall we?”

Garak hesitated. “I hope you don’t mean to replace our lunches.”

Julian tilted his head knowingly. “Lunch dates mean something special to Cardassians, don’t they?”

“They... mean something to me,” Garak replied.

“Uncle Julian,” Molly stage-whispered, covering her mouth so Garak couldn’t see but Julian could. “You should do both. Lunch _aaaand_ dinner.”

Julian’s smile was a soft one, a sweet one. “You’re right, Molly. We should.” He turned to Garak. “How’s tonight, Elim? Eighteen-hundred hours?”

Garak felt like he might float with elation. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out, sliding his hand to hold Julian’s on his thigh. Molly’s wonderful drawing was tucked under their joined hands.

When Julian turned his hand over to hold Garak’s, Garak nodded.

“Eighteen-hundred sounds perfect, my dear. Shall we dine in my quarters or yours?”

**{ ♥️ }**

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to _viva la good vibe_ , part 2: Surprise Fic Redux. I stand by my hopes for safety, survival, and strength, for all of us and our loved ones. And I shall add: let’s make some beautiful things, dear space friends!! Let 2021 be the year we speak positive change into existence with creativity. And, for goodness’ sake, _let us have fun while doing it_.
> 
> Elmie x
> 
> ♥ [Art on tumblr!](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/638612704320421888/i-thought-i-was-done-posting-fics-for-the)  
> ♥ [My other Garashir fics!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=8474&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=almaasi)


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